How It Starts, How It Ends
by CheekyBrunette
Summary: The story of how Logan began to be abused, and how it ended.  Rating for, you know, abuse.
1. Prolouge

**Okay guys! MY NEWEST MULTI CHAPTER! BE EXCITED!**

Logan couldn't tell you when his mother broke.

He did know, however, when his mom first came home drunk, staggering though the front door and clutching the neck of a beer bottle clumsily in her hands. He also could remember when she first disappeared for a few days, leaving him home alone and scared, coming back after a while with running make up and a torn dress.

He could also remember the first time she hit him.

He'd been sitting quietly at the kitchen table, backpack strapped closely to his back and watching his mom. Her curlers hung loosely in her hair, bouncing against her face. Her old bathrobe hugged her tightly. Not for the first time, and definitely not the last, Logan wished his dad hadn't walked out on them.

He munched on a bowl of Captain Crunch. When his mother went to throw away a coffee filter, she noticed the overflowing trash and decided to take it out. The bag was stuck. She pulled and pulled, the barrels in her hair frustrating her as they wacked her in the face. She yanked while Logan watched, growing scared as anger etched into his mother's expression.

She cursed; throwing the trash can on the ground, its contents spilling out onto the floor. She kicked it in spite, emptying more garbage onto the kitchen tiles. Logan gulped, eyes shining with fear.

"Momma, you're making a mess!" he squeaked, only in third grade and already the voice of reason. Unfortunately, it was the wrong thing to say, and she turned on him with gritted teeth.

"You don't think I know that?" she screeched, voice consuming his thoughts. He backed away from her as far as he could in his chair, flinching as she yelled in his year, hot breath on his face. "Well, let's see you do better!"

Her hard hand smacked his face.

She grabbed him roughly by the shoulder and dragged him over to her mess, throwing him onto the ground. "Clean it up," she growled. Logan kneeled, doing as she asked, tears sliding down his stinging, bruising face.

The drive to school that day was silent until the very end. "Logan," his mother called to him as he climbed out of the car. He looked to her hopefully, thinking she might be about to apologize. His hope diminished at the hard look on her face. "Tell them you fell," she instructed him.

Logan nodded meekly as she drove away, holding his sore cheek in his hand, not knowing that this was the start to a long train of lies, pain, and torture.

Because that's how it starts, and this is how it ends.

**Okay, I am PSYCHED for this! I don't know how great I'll be at updating, but we'll see.**


	2. Chapter 1

**Guys, I had a whole other chapter written for this, and hated it. So here's this one.**

It had been two years since Logan's mom had first hit him, and now he was in fifth grade, barely hanging on. Home was pretty much hell, his mom was bored with "conventional" methods of hurting him and had moved on to some pretty scary stuff. Even when she left him alone, she was battering on him emotionally, whether she was out drinking herself stupid or home with yet _another_ man, Logan couldn't take it. School was the only place he could get away to, but it was still awful. There were just some things you couldn't keep secret.

"Logan, are you okay?" Carlos asked innocently after class one day, and, immediately, three sets of eyes pounced on him. Logan winced as Kendall, James and Carlos all fought to get close to him and examine the darkening bruise under his left eye. Kendall won and stood in front of him, fingering the side of his face gently, but Logan still hissed in pain. He batted the blonde's hand away.

"I just fell down the stairs," he lied, earning a skeptical look from each of his friends. It was the same eyebrow raise they gave him when he wore the same torn, dirty shirt three days in a row because "it was his favorite", or when he didn't bring a gift to their birthday party because he "forgot" or "didn't know what to get them". It was that same disbelieving stare they gave him when his mom didn't come to conferences, or pageants, or school fairs because he was "busy" or Logan "didn't tell her". He squirmed.

"Loge," Kendall started, looking at him comfortingly, "you know you can tell us anything, right?" he asked, only ten, but still observant enough to realize that Logan hadn't been telling them _something._ Logan gave them his best confused, happy smile.

"Yeah, why?" he asked, toying with the hem of his dingy, long sleeved white t-shirt. It didn't matter if it was one hundred degrees outside, Logan always wore long sleeves. Too many scars and injuries would be exposed without them. He gave them a crooked grin, trying to fool them into thinking nothing was wrong, but Kendall wasn't going to have it this time. He had known Logan for too long to think everything was fine anymore.

"Because it seems like you're hiding something. Why won't you tell us what's wrong?" the blonde asked, hoping Logan would finally open up. Of course he didn't.

"Nothing's wrong, everything's fine! Why would you think that anything isn't?" he questioned, an eyebrow arched. See, Logan was pretty good at hiding things, but he was an even better liar. Unfortunately, not even he could pull off keeping something under the covers for this long.

"Gee, Logie, I don't know!" James said sarcastically with an eye roll. "Maybe cause there hasn't been a day where you haven't came into school with a bruise, or cut, or limp!" he yelped, trying to be tough like angry, but unable to keep the high-pitched tone of fear out of his voice. Logan kept his face impassive, but inside if felt like his world was bursting apart. He tried to breathe.

"I'm just clumsy!" he lied, trying to make them see what wasn't there. "You guys are crazy!" he squeaked as the rest of their class slowly exited the room, only their teacher staying behind and watching them questioningly. He undoubtedly expected something else was going on too. He shook his head as his face heated up and snagged his backpack, bolting out of the room and leaving his disbelieving friends behind him.

Tears streaked his face as he ran all the way home. Not because they had come close to catching him, but because they were so close to saving him. He had pushed away an opportunity to be rescued, all because he was scared they wouldn't want to.

_I'm so DUMB!_ He screamed at himself inwardly, frustrated. He should know his friends would do anything to help him, but for so long the fear of being rejected for being abused had burned in his heart. It was ridiculous, but what if it wasn't? His eyes burned at the thought of his friends yelling that they hated him, just like his mom did. His feet practically sparked against the pavement as he ran away from his friends, but coming up on his house his steps slowed. His stomach churned.

Logan hated a lot about his life. Normally he wasn't exactly bitter or angry about it, but that didn't mean he didn't ever stop wishing for one second that he could have normal lives like his friends. Nope. Not ever. One of the many things he couldn't stand was his house. Not just because of the fact that it wasn't a home, but because of everything else about it. The windows were cracked, the shutters were falling off their hinges, and the garden was a big weedy, dead mess. It was like there wasn't one thing in his life that could make him happy. Not even the appearance of the place he lived could be nice. At least his friends hadn't seen it. He was sort of shocked he'd known them for so long and they had never even once tried to follow him home from school. He guessed they just knew their boundaries.

He stepped into his house as quietly as he could; hoping for the trillionth time his mom wouldn't hear the loud clicking sound of the lock as he shut the door. Of course, she did. "Logan?" his mother shouted angrily from the kitchen. Logan tried not to groan in hopelessness.

"Yes, mom?" he answered, earning an even angrier mother, storming out into the front hallway to grab his ear. He shrieked as he pinched one of his lobes and pulled. He hated having sensitive ears.

"How DARE you yell in this house hold! How hard is it for you to come in the room and talk to me?" she screamed. Logan's jaw tensed. _I don't know, cause whenever I see you, you hurt me?_ he thought bitterly. "That's it, get in the bathroom!" she ordered, and pushed him away, giving him a kick from behind to speed him up. She was wearing the same robe and same curlers she was wearing the day she had first hurt him, making Logan wonder for the umpteenth time if she ever changed.

He entered the bathroom and his mother pushed him to the floor, him landing hard on the tile. His mother didn't even have to try, he was so thin. Logan was fed lunch at school. That was it. She ripped on the bathtub faucet and waited impatiently for it to fill up with freezing cold water. Then she set to work on violently pulling Logan's shirt over his head. "Hurry up!" she yelled. When he was undressed and the tub was full, she shoved him in. Logan gasped for breath, but she shoved his head under and left the room.

"Mom?" he called when she walked out of sight. He was rewarded with her screaming back at him.

"Keep your head UNDER!" she yelled, and Logan unwillingly obeyed, scared to disobey her. He let his nose hover above the surface just barely, breathing shallowly. The ice cold water soaked him all the way through, freezing him to the bone. When his mother decided he had learned his lesson, she dragged him out of the tub by the throat and threw him on the white tiled floor. He slowly got dressed, trying to ignore the way his cuts and bruises stung as he pulled his clothes on over them.

He spent the night studying, to upset and scared to fall asleep and using his books as his only other means of escape. He doubled over his desk, hands over his ears to block out the noises of his mom and her "friend" in her bedroom next to his own.

Life was crap.

**Haha, MUCH better the second time. Now I can post without being mortified. AND it goes SO much better with what I want to do, it's ridiculous. Not only that, but it saves me work, time, and effort. YAY! Plus, I did it ALL while watching tangled. WOOT!**


	3. Chapter 2

**Hm. I don't exactly know what to do with this. Like... I feel the urge for filler, but I also want action. It's a weird wishy washy feeling I have going on, and I don't like it. Next episode is Big Time Moms, which is something that I would rather not happen, actually. Like, I put so much effort into Back In The Days, and now there's an opportunity to tear it all apart. Sob. ON A HIGHER NOTE! All four of my boys have a mom in that story, so I don't have to regret killing anyone off. And if worse comes to worse, I'll just plug my fingers in my ears and scream "LALALALALALALA" until it's over. You know what I mean.**

**Ugh, I don't even want to write this at all. Humf.**

Logan ignored the stares his classmates gave him as he trudged into school, heavy bags under his eyes. He took his seat and immediately rested his head in the crook of his arm, dozing off within seconds. Countless times during the day, his teacher banged a ruler on the desk, waking him up and reminding that God gave him a neck, so he should use it. He really did try to pay attention to the lesson, but school was the only place he could sleep. It's not like home was an option. Not with his mom there. Not ever. He stared at the chalk board through bleary, burning eyes, dry from lack of sleep.

His teacher droned on and on, repeating the lesson Logan had already read in his text book at least twelve times. The lights were turned off and the projector switched on, the soft humming noise pushing Logan towards sleep. His head found its way to his desk, eye lids sticking together as he tried to pull them apart. Eventually, exhaustion took over like it usually did, and he drifted off to sleep in class, his mother's threats screams still pulsing through his head.

_Logan was sitting in his living room, knees pulled to his chest and tears streaming down his face as he rocked slowly. He ducked when a vase that had somehow managed to escape his mother's last temper tantrum flew over his head, shattering on the wall opposite him. He was suddenly whipped up from his spot hidden under the arm of the couch by a boney hand gripping his collar. He found himself face to face with his mother, mascara and lipstick smeared across her cheeks and hair in complete and utter disarray. She had him so close, he could feel her hot, alcohol-laden breath on his neck. _

_"DO YOU SEE THAT?" she screeched, pointing a long, cheaply manicured finger at the car pulling away in the drive way. "How am I supposed to make money if you keep scaring away all the clients?" Logan held his arms up weakly in front of him, his only ounce of protection in case she got a little too mad. Knowing his mom, she would. "I thought I told you to STAY IN YOUR ROOM!" Logan couldn't fight the tears streaking down his face._

_"I'm s-sorry, y-you said f-for me to c-clean, so I wa-" He was cut off when she started a string of curses. He hated this part. Logan knew there was no way she would ever be happy with him no matter how hard he tried or how perfect he became, but that didn't mean he didn't try. With every bad word flung in his face, Logan felt a low blow to his self-esteem. So many hours studying, working, striving to be the flawless son she desired, but it was just so hard. There just wasn't anything he could do, and it ate him alive. Logan Mitchell knew just how hard it was to be perfect. Yeah. So hard, it was impossible. _

_He squirmed in her grip, but that just brought out her fire. He gagged when he felt a sharp jab to his ribs, somehow managing to knock the wind out of him. He rolled away from her, but she was quicker than he was, and another hard blow was placed to his stomach, and Logan couldn't catch his breath. He looked up at her pleadingly, his mom staring back at him soullessly in return. For a second, she paused, and Logan felt a slimmer of hope. That is, until she grabbed his arm. The small boy was confused at first, but that's when he realized where she was dragging him._

_The room._

_"Oh, no, please, Mom!" he wailed, struggling to get away. Of course, all that earned him was a tighter grip on his arm. He could already feel the finger shaped bruises forming under her grasp, and somewhere in his mind he groaned at the thought of having to wear long sleeves the next day, despite it being summer. But there were more pressing matters. "Mama, don't take me there, I don't want to go!" He watched in horror as she shoved the door open when they reached the end of the hallway. He felt himself stop breathing. The darkness of the room already creeping over his soul._

"NO!" Logan screamed aloud in his class, jolting awake. He blushed as all the eyes of the class, including the teacher's, turned on him. He realized the lights had been turned on, and he wondered how long he had slept for. He looked down at his hands, embarrassed, and muttered lamely, "I just broke my pencil, is all," he lied, worming his way out of another close call. The class returned to their lesson, but Logan could feel the disbelieving stares of his friends on the back of his neck. He sighed, feeling like the weight of the world was resettling on his shoulders, making it even heavier than before. He never took his eyes off the worksheet that had magically found its way onto his desk, vision blurring. He hated crying, so why did he do it so often?

Recess came all too quickly. He spent the entire time running from his friends' incessant questions. You know, the ones he couldn't answer because if he did, then... then...

_Then what, Logan?_ he asked himself, angry for the millionth time that he didn't have the courage to tell them. There were just so many 'what ifs'. Like, what if they laughed at him? Or what if they called him a liar? Or what if they got mad at him for keeping it secret for so long? After all, they were supposed to be friends and tell each other everything. What would they say when they realized all the years of honesty was a total lie?

But he couldn't run forever, and it wasn't long before Kendall had him pegged up underneath the slide, not knowing how much his firm hands gripping his shoulders were hurting him. Logan had bruises _everywhere_, and he hated it. Eventually, Kendall caught his line of sight and stared into his eyes. "Please, Logan," he begged, voice soft. Then, fortunately and unfortunately, the whistle blew, and recess was over. Logan grinned victoriously, but it he wasn't really happy. Of course, happy wasn't exactly an option for him. He gave a shocked Kendall a haughty salut and ran off to get in line to walk up to the room. Of course, the blonde was right behind him the whole time, tasering him in the sides, dying to know what was up, but they were to be silent in the halls.

Logan sent up a prayer to anyone who would listen. He would pretty much try anything to make it through one more day.

**Psssh. Whatever. This chapter guys did NOT want to be written, like, at all. Near torture man. Seriously. But now we can roll right along and get into some deeper stuff. Oh yeah, and I guess you guys can now figure out what Mrs. Mitchell's occupation is... yeah. Okay, the boys WILL become more prominent in this, but I just gotta set the scene. And they're ten guys. No slash. Like... ew.**

**The chapters of this have been really short. GAH! I keep running out of steam when I get to the bottom. That or the next part I have planned if I add it to the end would just make it be ridiculously long, so yeah.**


	4. Chapter 3

Logan could _feel_ Kendall's, James's, and Carlos's eyes piercing into him all through class. He knew they were looking for answers, but he didn't have any to give them. There were just so many reasons to keep his home life hidden. The hands on the classroom clock seemed to move faster than ever deemed possible as the dreaded end of the day and eminent confrontation ticked closer. As the minute hand nudged the twelve on the clock, Logan prepared to bolt out the door.

The bell rang, and Logan snagged his backpack, bursting from the room. He could hear his friends' pounding feet, hot on his heels after him. He tried not to worry, figuring that he could lose them in the back alleys he had to walk through on the way to his house, but as he got closer and closer, still hearing the familiar clap of rubber soles on the sidewalk behind him, he started to freak out. Logan was ten years old; he didn't know what to do. All he knew was that he wanted to get home, but he didn't really have one to go to.

The bruised boy started to wear out, slowing until fingers brushed his back as they tried to grab his shirt, reviving him. He set off again with new found energy, zipping through the tangle of gradually dirtying streets leading to his house. Logan didn't know what his friends were thinking as they chased him, but he figured they were probably getting hopelessly lost and definitely confused. He heard their panting behind him, and Logan hoped they would give out. The trip to his house was honestly too long for a kid in elementary school to _walk_, let alone run, but that had never stopped his mother from making him do it every morning and afternoon since fourth grade. Of course, when it came to taking care of their friends, exhaustion meant nothing to the boys, and they followed him in hot pursuit.

It was right about at the corner where Logan needed to turn on to get to his street, when he slowed to a stop, his friends' footsteps dead, heavy, and happy for a break. He turned around timidly and faced them, tears pricking his eyes. Logan waited for Kendall, James, and Carlos to catch their breath, squirming as they started to take a good look around at their surroundings. "Why are we on the bad side of town?" Carlos asked oblivious to his possible insensitivity. Kendall elbowed him in the ribs and looked to Logan empathetically, green eyes shining with worry. Logan shifted from foot to foot.

"Logie, do you live here?" he asked. Logan's paling face answered his question loud and clear. The short boy inhaled deeply through his nose, closing his eyes against James's sharp intake of breath. He definitely did _not_ like the way this day was turning out. Not just because his friends were on the brink of discovering everything he had worked so hard to hide, but because constantly rolling through his mind was the fact that he was late, and his mother would be mad. Even worse was the threat of him walking in with friends. His stomach lurched.

"Don't make fun of me, okay?" he begged, worried that they would laugh at his home. They hadn't had that much money even when his dad was with them, and now it was almost ridiculous how poor they were. From where he stood, he could count seven of the cheap, tiny row homes identical to his own with boarded up windows and cracked glass. His friends look at him, incredulous that he would think they would belittle him like that. Kendall came up and rested a hand on his shoulder.

"Logan, we would never laugh at you," he said honestly, making Logan want to claw himself apart. His friends were just so nice to him, and he had been keeping everything from them. It made him feel so ridiculously guilty and undeserving. Logan could taste bile rise in his throat as his friends' caring faces tore him to bits. He nodded, and then arched an eyebrow.

"How are you going to get home?" he asked, the thought suddenly having had dawned on him. He couldn't walk them to their houses, it took a half hour just to get there if he ran, and then he'd be _really_ late. It's not as if they could find their way back on their own, it was pretty confusing, and they probably weren't paying attention as they ran. The only other option was-

"We could call our moms on your phone!" Carlos suggested, and then his eyes lit up. "This means we get to see your HOUSE!" he cheered, not knowing what he was in for. The Latino was so excited, that he stuck his arms out like wings and started buzzing around in the street like a plane. James, on the other hand, looked terrified, and Logan knew why.

James Diamond. Even his _name_ sounded like he was rich. The first time Logan ever went to his "house", more like a mansion, he asked Mr. Diamond if he was Bill Gates. That's how big it was. Logan knew that James had probably never _seen_ houses as bad as his neighborhood's, let alone visit one. To the kid with the big bucks, his entire living space was probably the size of a closet. In fact, James probably thought he was visiting the slums if he didn't know better. Logan felt nauseous. He could imagine James's unnerved expression, and he felt his cheeks flush up as he thought about it. He fumbled with the hem of his shirt, thread bear with hole pinpricking the sleeves from overuse, embarrassed. He mumbled a "follow me" and turned around, leading them down the street and around the corner to wear he lived.

To their credit, all three boys controlled their shock as they mounted the cracked cement slabs that served as steps to the front door. Logan hesitated, hand on the knob, and Kendall poked him in the ribs, goading him on. Logan nearly laughed out loud. Here the blonde was probably thinking he was embarrassed of his house and didn't want them to see, which was true. Little did he know that the thing he was scared of was his mom, not the appearance of his "home." He was brought back to reality quickly, and his breath hitched as he opened it like he always did, trying to avoid the sound of the lock clicking. Of course, just like usual, that didn't work so well.

"LOGAN, YOU ARE LATE!" came his mother's eternally loud, shouting voice from the kitchen. He looked back quickly at his friends, but they were clearly too absorbed in the peeling, dingy wallpaper and the filthy, thinning carpet of the front hallway to notice the anger dripping from his mother's voice. James looked absolutely faint. He felt his heart stop as thumping feet sounded from the back of the house. He whirled around, and there she was, lumbering down the hallway _still_ in her robe and curlers, looking absolutely furious. Her expression softened into one of shock when her eyes fell on the boys.

"M-mom," Logan stammered, hoping the guys wouldn't notice how terrified he was. "This is James," he said, pointing and suddenly becoming _very _aware of his friends' frightened expressions. "And that's Carlos, and this is Kendall," he finished the introductions, trying to keep his voice from cracking. His mother looked down at him, eyes flashing with a ferocity that Logan had never seen before, and he nearly threw up on the carpet, he was so scared.

"We will talk about this later," she hissed, and Logan flinched away. He could practically _feel_ the venom in her voice, and he felt the world wobble beneath him as his head lightened. He watched as his vision blurred, fear coursing through him.

"Of course, Momma," he replied, trying to keep the shake out of his voice, staring at her cross-eyed. She stuck her hands on her hip, looking satisfied for the time being. She then turned to the boys, a big smile on her face and eyes bright with a motherly love that Logan hadn't seen for a long time, making his veins course with an unwanted jealousy. She spoke in a voice almost sickeningly sweet.

"Now what can I do for you boys?"

**Don't worry. No one but Logan gets hurt in this story, just to let you know.**

**NOW! THIS IS IMPORTANT! Cheeky is going away tomorrow until Saturday night REALLY late, and I don't update on Sunday (but I might, cause I feel really guilty about this) so for all ya'll out there who say "UPDATE SOON!" or something along those lines, I LOVE YOU, but I'm so sorry, I can't!**


	5. Chapter 4

**Okay guys. The goal is to do a WHOLE BUNCH of this story today, do BIDS a bunch tomorrow, and then whatever I want for the rest of the week. YAY!**

**BTW, chocolate marshmallow swirl ice cream=pms-er's best friend! (Sorry if I just made it awkward for all you guy readers...)**

Mrs. Mitchell set down a plate of Oreo's down on the battered coffee table in front of the boys. Logan eye's widened as he watched his friends take a few timidly, shocked they had even _had_ cookies. His mother looked at him with furrowed eyebrows when he didn't take one. "Logie, sweetie, aren't you hungry?" she asked, voice dripping with false love. The guys looked at him expectantly, but he barely noticed. He was too zoned in on his mom. She nudged the plate toward him with a hidden look that _dared_ him to take one.

His stomach twisted as he snaked his hand toward the tray, and nibbled at the edge, bracing himself all the while for a smack to the face that would never come. He finished and caught a look from his mother that clearly said, "I'll get you later". He gulped.

"It's so exciting to meet some of my little Logie's friends! He's never brought anyone home before, I was beginning to worry he was all alone!" she swooned, feigning affection by resting a hand over her heart. Since Kendall, James, and Carlos had arrived, she had quick rushed upstairs to put on her best dress and take the curlers from her hair. When his mom had came back down, Logan almost fainted. She almost looked like a normal mom. The only thing that ruined it was the steely cold look in her eyes that constantly reminded him how much trouble he was in.

Logan barely listened to the conversation swirling around his head; although, he was pretty amazed that his mother could even remember how to behave like _not _a she-beast. No, he was too busy thinking about what was going to happen when the guys went home. Logan had faced the threat of dying more times in his life than anyone ever should, but never had he been so sure it was eminent. Not even that one time when he was lying on the bathroom floor with his skull cracked open as his mom played around with a guy in her bedroom. Thank goodness he had left to pee eventually, or Logan would have been dead by the next morning. His mom, of course, claimed the whole time he had fallen.

Soon, all the Oreos had disappeared, and Logan was pulled out of his thoughts by James, in his haste to get out of there, nudging him on the arm and saying it was time to go. They all piled into Mrs. Mitchell's extremely old Station Wagon and drove off, following Logan's directions to get them back to their homes. They got a bit turned around at times, considering the car couldn't hop the fence behind the Morrison's house, and every time that happened his mother would give him a wicked stare that made his organs flip.

Finally, they had dropped everyone off at their respective houses, each boy feeling a little miffed. James was clearly distressed about the severe poverty of the Mitchell family, and he practically ran into his house, terrified. Carlos was confused, as he was oblivious to most of what went on and knew it. Kendall, however, was the most wary.

On the way out of the car, he gave Logan a look, as if sensing his fear. His green eyes bared right through him, and Logan squirmed under his gaze. They both knew he wasn't completely satisfied with all Logan had told him today. It was as if he could _see_ all the secrets he had building inside of him. He had left the car slowly, looking over his shoulder back at him the whole time. It was nerve-wracking.

As soon as he was in his own house, and he and his mom were safely around the corner, the screaming started. "Logan Mitchell! How DARE you invite those snot-nosed little BRATS to MY home! What were you THINKING? I already have to put up with YOU. Why would I want to deal with three MORE of you?" She continued shouting, threatening, and insulting him for the duration of the trip, obviously furious, if that even needed to be said.

When they reached home, she dragged him by the collar into the house. She pushed him to the kitchen, spitting curses like a snake as she smacked him around. His mother leaned him over the sink and jammed a finger down his throat, forcing him to spit up the contents of his stomach, oreo and all, the acid stinging his throat and leaving a bitter taste in his mouth.

Logan was completely numb with fear as she quite literally kicked him into The Room and shut the door, locking it immediately, behind him.

The Room was much less a room, and more like a tiny linen cabinet on the stair landing. It was one of those half-sized ones that everyone always thought was so fun to climb into and hide in when they were in trouble as little kids. In fact, that's what Logan had been doing when his mom first trapped him inside it. He could still here her screaming, "IF YOU LIKE IT IN THERE, YOU CAN STAY IN THERE!" as the lock clicked behind him.

Since then, he had grown far to big for it. The walls pressed in on his shoulders, cramping him inward. The ceiling hit low on him, forcing him to curl inward on his knees, uncomfortably pressing up on his chest due to the shallow depth of the closet. It was dark, it was small, it was uncomfortable, and most of all, it was terrifying. Ever since the first time he was trapped in there, Logan had been completely claustrophobic. Now that he was older, and the walls were literally closing in on him, he was even more scared.

He could feel his breath pick up as he tried to slow it, worried about oxygen despite the grills of the vent digging into his scalp. His pulse was beating wildly, throbbing in his temples, and he started to claw at the walls, twisting desperately in the tight space.

Some where in the back of his mind, the part that wasn't panicking, he wondered how long he would be in there. Last time, he was stuck in there for three days. That thought, of course, sent him off again. His desperate attack on the wood surrounding him revived with full force. Splinters layered his finger tips and arms, pricking into his shoulders, back, and knees. Tears soaked his cheeks as he cried uncontrollably to be let out.

"Mommy, Mommy," he called, voice taught and hoarse, "I'll be good, I'll be good, Mommy, let me out!" He was practically gurgling on his snot as he rubbed it away on his already damp sleeves. "Get me out of here. Get me out!" he shrieked. His begging went on until morning, his voice having gone out hours before, but he still continued trying.

Finally, the door cracked open. He burst out, moving to cling to his mom, but she kicked him to the ground, delivering a hard blow to his side that definitely cracked a rib. "Get to school." She said curtly.

**Well that was happy... Next chapter I will tone it down. Then it'll be sort of horrible the chapter after that. Then it will be semi-awful. Then it'll be as happy as I can make it. YAY!**

**I'm going to start the next chapter right now. Good? Good.**


	6. Chapter 5

**HAHA! UPDATE NUMBER TWO! This MIGHT be it for today (despite my epic desire to write...) cause I have Campaigners, which I WOULD skip, but it's kind of at my house and I love it too much for that to ever happen. SO SORRY!**

Logan shuffled to school, back and shoulders tight from being crammed in such a small place for so long. He arched them repeatedly, trying to stretch them out and stop the pain, but it wouldn't go away. The heavy backpack constantly dragging him down certainly was not helping things, and, despite knowing the guys would be there, he was dying to get to school.

He sighed in relief when he was able to hang his book bag on the hook in the front of the class. He closed his eyes, rolling his neck, only to open them and see a frowning Kendall standing before him, hands on his hips. "Something else is up with you Logie," he said simply, green eyes flickering with an emotion Logan couldn't quite identify, "and I'm going to find out what." He opened his mouth to say more, but the bell for class rang and the students had to take their seats.

The lesson went by ridiculously slowly. The worst part was that James sat next to him, and the shaken boy kept staring at him, trying to be discreet about it, which just made it that much more obvious. A blush tinted the taller boy's cheeks, and he wondered if James was embarrassed by him. His heart wrenched. Meanwhile, he fear in his eyes was not only making Logan extremely guilty for causing it, but also really annoyed and jealous that James could be so worried about_ this_, which just made him even more guilty that he would be so bitter towards his friend. He pushed the emotions behind him and focused in on his school work, just like he always did.

During recess, Kendall chased him yet again, but this time he caught him within the first ten minutes.

The two were pinned face to face in the grass, an anxious Carlos and James standing above. Kendall seemed absolutely furious and had his fists tangled into his long sleeved t-shirt. Logan knew there was no weaseling out of this one. Everything was happening so fast, he was losing track of what his friends knew and what they didn't, and it scared him. And Logan was just so _sick_ of being scared.

"What are you still hiding?" Kendall asked, shaking him up a little in his determination. Logan fought the dizziness that came over him as he was knocked around. Kendall was giving him this hard look that he couldn't ignore, but he didn't know what to say. I'm being abused doesn't exactly roll off the tongue, but that was fine with Logan because it wasn't anything he wanted to talk about. He chewed on his thoughts, not sure what to tell the blond boy on top of him.

"I don't know what you want from me!" he exclaimed, playing dumb, but the harsh look in Kendall's eyes told him that he wasn't buying. Logan bit his lower lip, mulling over what to do. He hated this. As he lost himself in his thoughts, he was vaguely aware of Kendall shaking him up and down, letting his head loll around off his shoulders. He shook his head back to reality and burst out in frustration, "I DON'T HAVE A DAD, OKAY?"

He was met with silence.

"But... Logie... you made Fathers Day cards with us," Carlos said slowly, thinking through it. Logan blushed and looked to his toes, feeling extremely embarrassed, guilty, and stupid under their disbelieving stare. James seemed more horrified than ever before, which appeared to be a growing concept with him.

"Yeah, and you said he was the one to teach you hockey, and how to ride a bike, and how it's not okay to hurt girls," the tall, tan boy was on the verge of hysterics. Logan put a weak hand up to stop him.

"He did when he was with me and my mom, but he left in second grade," he said, giving James and Carlos apologetic winces until Kendall's strong, angry presence was too over-bearing to ignore. He faced him timidly, worried about his reaction, but instead of anger, he saw sympathy. The grip on his shirt loosened, and Kendall wrapped him in a hug, squeezing his aching shoulders and spine. He whispered into his ear.

"It's okay, Logan. I know what it's like to lose a daddy," he said comfortingly after seeing the tears that had welled in Logan's big, brown, sad eyes. Logan buried his nose into Kendall's, shoulder, the position like murder on his spine, but he didn't care. He latched onto the other boy's shirt, wanting for all the more to never let him go. _No, you don't know what it's like to lose one like I did, _he thought, but didn't say anything. How could he?

After a full ten minutes that felt more like ten milliseconds like that, the bell rang and the boys were herded back inside.

And for the first time in what seemed like forever, Logan felt like he could breath.

Of course, he didn't know what was coming next.

**Alright guys, it's sort of, like... Three stupid paragraphs at the end, but I'm hoping you all won't destroy me for it. SO PLEASE DON'T!**

**Hm... I should start contemplating food, smelling nice, and things... I MIGHT SQUEEZE IN ONE MORE UPDATE! Maybe...**


	7. Chapter 6

**Ugh, have you guys ever had one of those mornings where you pulled an all nighter and you just want to wear a pair of sweat pants, but the only pair you have left require a certain pair of underwear that you can't find cause you're room, which you planned on cleaning three weeks ago, is a mess? And then you do, and you get to finding a shirt and you're just like "…" cause they don't really go with anything, but at this point you've put in too much effort to NOT wear them, so you finally find a white one but realize that the right colored bra that's clean was magically eaten by the drier so there's this big tear in the side, which COULD work in dire circumstances, but it's gym day, so THAT won't do, and you look at the clock only to realize you could still be in bed for another hour? Of course, your not finished math homework is on your bed side table, next to your not finished English homework, on top of your not finished bio homework, which just reminds you that you didn't finish your history homework? Yeah. And then you find a shirt, but by now your hair is to dry to leave down, but to wet to pull up, so you spend a half hour trying to make it presentable, and you're in SERIOUS need for caffine?**

**I have.**

Logan's head was a buzz as the rest of the day passed by in a flash. Everything he had been building up was unraveling just so, so fast, he didn't know how to handle it. The more he gave up, the closer his friends were getting to the truth, and he knew it. He wanted to throw his hands over his mouth to shut himself up, but things just kept spilling out before he could get the chance. It was scary, and Logan's found himself with his knees curled up to his chest uncomfortably in his desk, biting his lower lip to keep calm.

When the bell rang, he made his way home, hoping his mother wouldn't be angry anymore. He also hoped she would be dressed. Seeing his mom all dressed up with makeup and her hair like she used to wear it had ignited some kind of hope in Logan. Like, maybe things could change. If she could still _look_ like that loving, caring person from when he was little, couldn't there be a chance of her _acting_ like her, too?

Logan felt a prickling at the back of his neck, his hair going on end, as a car slowed up next to him. He started to panic. There was only one reason a car would pull up next to a kid like him in this part of town, and that was to steal them. As the tinted back window rolled down, his heart sped up. They were going to take him, and he was going to die. His pulse beat loudly in his ears as he looked into the eyes of his kidna-

"Kendall?" he yelped incredulously, shocked as the blonde flashed a cheeky smile down at him from his mother's minivan. The door was opened up for him, and he climbed in, stuck in a total daze. "Mrs. Knight," he called up to the driver from the backseat once he had gathered his bearings and had stopped gaping, "what are you doing here?" She smiled at him with a guilty wince.

"Well, Kendall wanted me to meet your mom after hearing about…" she paused, offering him a sympathetic look that nearly tore Logan apart, "your dad. So instead of going home after school, we decided to take a drive down to your house. I hope you don't mind us inviting ourselves over." Logan shook his head mutely, while inside he couldn't stop screaming '_Go home! You can't come, go home!'_ He was freaking out. The last thing he wanted to do, and definitely the last thing his mother wanted him to do, was to bring more people home. There was no way this could possibly work out for him, that his mother would understand. She didn't understand yesterday when it was just kids and now, here he was, taking home an adult.

He was going to die.

It wasn't even an exaggeration; he was honestly going to die. He had been left bleeding out on the kitchen floor for less before. This was it, and it was officially setting in. Logan chewed on his lip, mulling it over for a second, and was scared by the wave of relief that washed over him. He wouldn't have to worry. He wouldn't be hungry. He wouldn't hurt, or bleed, or cry. Death was the answer, he was sure, but he didn't want it to be.

Logan was ten years old, falling into the trap that was suicide and it terrified him. The car pulled up next to his house, and the Knights started getting out of the car. Logan followed and led the way up his crumbling front step. He nearly broke down with his hand on the doorknob. Why? Why couldn't there just be one thing, _one thing_ that could be good about his home. There was _nothing_. There was absolutely _nothing_ that could make his life worth living, and it wasn't fair. But Logan was good at holding back tears, so he opened the door, trying to keep it silent like always, and shuffled into his house.

He saw Mrs. Knight and Kendall hesitate, which wasn't shocking. His house was gross, and dirty, and old. He was practically just waiting for the day when it would finally fall to shambles around him. They stepped in reluctantly, and Logan zipped into the kitchen, finding his mother over a clean-enough mug of coffee. Tears started streaming down his face.

"Mom, I'm so, so sorry, I didn't mean to, but it just sort of-"

"What. Did you. Do," she cut him off, voice eerily calm. Logan tried to answer, but no words came out. It took all his power not to bend over and vomit on the cold tile as his mother rounded the corner, peaking out to see Mrs. Knight clutching her purse tightly in both hands as she awaited the Mitchells. His mother's eyes narrowed into slits, and another wave of nausea rolled over him, and he hit the floor. She came over and back handed him across the cheek, and bent down to whisper in his ear, "we will talk about this later."

She went upstairs and quickly got dressed in something presentable, hair and makeup done a little sloppily, but Logan couldn't expect much. She met Mrs. Knight, and for a long while the two grieved over their lost husbands as Kendall and Logan hung about, terror building inside the pale boy as Kendall just smiled, proud of his idea to get the two moms together. All too soon, it ended, tears staining each woman's cheeks. Mrs. Mitchell closed the door softly behind the Knights on their way out, and then turned wickedly on Logan.

"Oh, you are SO going to get it!" she said, turning away from him, and marching up the stairs. Logan didn't know what she was going to do, but he _was_ certain of one thing.

Whatever it was, it wasn't going to be good.

**I'm like, gah, soooooo sick. And since I'm sick, I'm also very emotional. I just keep crying to every bit of music that turns on. It can be happy and I'll still get upset. Stupid life…**

**All these chapters are super short... I just combine them with other chapters and then think it's too long so I separate them. GAH!**


	8. Chapter 7

**Guys, it's my birthday! I made a really dumb decision and bought both the BTR CD and DVD, so now there's nothing I want… humf.**

**If you're reading this, I REALLY WANT UPDATES! Okay? Okay.**

The bedroom was dark, the curtains drawn closed as night settled over the Mitchells' rundown, beaten up row home. Sharp cracks echoed off the walls as Logan was hit again and again, the space in between filled with his mother's panting as she wore herself out, putting all her energy into each flick of the whip. Logan whimpered in the dim light.

"Mommy… P-please, mom-my… Please s-s-stop," he begged quietly, trying to keep the shudder out of his broken voice, having been shot from screaming a long time ago. His request was met with laughter, and he curled in tighter on himself, the floor sticky where his blood was staining it. His head felt foggy with blood loss, nausea threatening to take over him. His body lay limp on the floor, helpless against his mother's vicious ways. She let out an almost primal hiss above him.

"You know this is all your fault don't you?" she asked, abandoning her weapon momentarily and instead slapping him across the face with the back of her hand. It was almost more painful to have her actually hit him. It was more… personal. "You do know that, right? You _know_ that this wouldn't happen if you were a GOOD BOY! But you just can't seem to figure out how to be that, can you? All I ask is for you to OBEY ME!"

His mother roughly grabbed him by the hairline and pushed him against the wall. He gasped as his head banged up against the hard surface. "_Please,_" he whispered, voice small and lonely in the quiet. She giggled wickedly at his plea and stroked his face with her long, pale fingers, sending shivers down his spine.

"Aww, Logie, honey, don't cry," she told him, sweeping her thumb under his eye to catch a falling tear. Logan's breath hitched, had he really been crying? Apparently so. "I do _hate it_ when my baby cries," she said with a mock loving tone. She threw him to the ground, Logan too hurt and broken to catch himself. He hit the floor. Hard.

"No! Mother, please stop!" He felt the pricking on his back before he could get a grasp on what was happening. The bloody rope tore through him yet again, ripping through what was left to his shirt, the cloth already sticking to his wounds. He shut his eyes up against his mom, against what was happening. He strived to think about other things that didn't involve the nightmare that was his life.

Nightmare. Logan _wished_ this was a nightmare, but the pain was too real to be any sort of dream. Each lashing sent a white hot, searing pain through him, jerking him from his head down to his feet. Exhaustion quickly swept over him, and the outskirts of his vision blackened, the rest going blurry as blood drained out of his system. He felt queasier than ever and threw up on himself with no energy or will power to turn and let the floor take it. Just as consciousness started to leave him, he was vaguely aware of a strong hand gripping the back of his collar and dragging him away. He passed out before he could find out where he was going.

When Logan woke up, he was unsurprisingly disoriented, but that didn't keep him from only needing 0.3 seconds to figure out where he was. He felt his muscles tense up as he realized where he had been stuffed into.

The room.

He ran on pure adrenaline, ripping and clawing at the door to the fullest extent he could manage in such a small place, but even that had its limits. He eventually feel silent and still, cramped in the fetal position behind the little locked door of the linen cabinet. It was almost unexplainable, the way he was feeling. There was something desperate crawling inside him, this animal instinct to stay alive. It was unrelentingly clawing at him with no desire to be quelled. He _had_ to live. He was _going_ to do it.

He mindlessly licked at his bloody fingertips, nails torn up from scratching at the door. He couldn't figure out how his mother was still able to cram him in here anymore. It felt like there wasn't enough room for air in there, even when he wasn't stuffed inside. Fear buzzed in his core as he wondered how long he was going to be trapped in there.

Logan could feel the bruises coating his entire body. He could feel them purpling on his arms from defending himself, his legs from kicking his mother away, his knees from trying to crawl from her, his back before she whipped him, his hands from trying to defend himself against her's. His face for screaming when he was supposed to be quiet.

Logan cried, half from pain, half from longing. He wanted to be loved. He wanted to be a good boy like his friends were. Their moms loved them, how were they so perfect? Maybe his mom just had high standards. His heart ached as much as his back.

His stomach ached, feeling like it was concaving in on itself, he was so hungry. He let himself cave into sleep, trauma making him tired, and awoke to being brutally thrown from the cabinet on to the floor. He looked up at his mother with wide eyes. His heart beat too fast in his chest.

"Get to school," she ordered, and left him on the stair landing. Tears fell down his cheeks. He hated this.

He _hated_ this.

**Okay, I swear, that's the worst of it, okay? Like, no worries. And SPOILER ALERT: next chapter the guys find out. **

**So relax. It'll get better.**

**NEWS! Okay, so however is the sixth reviewer starting NOW gets a request. Mostly cause that's the only legitimate prize I can offer. Why? Cause it's my birthday, and all of you have been giving me things and stuff, and now I want to give you something back! LIKE, HUGS!**


	9. Chapter 8

**Guys, there has recently been so much goodness filtering into the BTR archives that I just want to force you all to read, that I can hardly handle it! So don't be surprised if I start making recommendations left and right. For example, you all should go read "Finding My Religion" by Rainboots because it's just a whole mess of super cute Cargan things. You should also read "First Time Lover" by The Savage Soul which is yet ANOTHER cute Cargan.**

**By the way: HAPPY CARGAN DAY! If you all wanna get in on it, write a Cargan!**

Logan had known there was no way he could do it. There was no way he could make it to the end of the day in any sense of the word. The walk to school had been excruciating, and he entered the class panting, a permanent grimace etched into his face. He was terrified about the wounds on his back, knowing there was no way that he could have dressed them properly as he had only had a few minutes before he had to leave to wrap them, and they were, you know, on his back.

Logan had walked into his classroom with his head down, avoiding his friends, who thankfully left him alone, and sitting in his seat. He almost screamed when he leaned back, the chair murder on his injuries. Pain from the almost nonexistent pressure seized him completely, bursting into him and setting fire to his insides. He tried to resist the natural urge to yell out and settled on gasping and gaping like a fish out of water. James gave him a crooked look, but it hurt too much for Logan to even contemplate responding.

James was an issue for Logan. Not that he was really looking for it, but the taller boy seemed to be doing absolutely everything he could to avoid eye contact. He had expected the guys to hate him after finding out about his home life, but the way James was treating him was far worse. He couldn't help but catch the incredulous stares his rich friend had given him during the lessons, and it was driving him crazy. Was he really that bad? Was he really so horrible that James couldn't even believe it? The only good thing that came out of the way James kept looking at him was that he could take a break from worrying about his back, and instead worry about their friendship. It was definitely a more relieving thing to worry about.

Logan had struggled to focus on the lesson that day. His mind was obviously else where, but he didn't really care. He had already learned this lesson at least three times over. Instead, Logan allowed himself to concentrate on not wincing or making any sort of noise about how much his shirt and bandages against his back hurt. It was insane how painful it was. It honestly felt like something with claws was still trying to dig it's way into him, like pins were sticking into him down every tear in his skin, like someone had stabbed him with a hundred knifes and had just left them in.

It was recess that did him in.

In fact, it was always recess that broke him. The guys were playing tag, not unusually, and Carlos was racing after Logan, hard on his heels, when the Latino let out a loud scream. Logan quickly turned around to see his horrified face and asked what was wrong. He had only stammered and pointed, but it didn't take Logan long to realized he had bled trough his shirt, red seeping through the white cotton. He hadn't been able to read Kendall's face on their way to the nurses office, but it was evident that James was feeling nothing but guilt and nausea, and Carlos was completely confused.

Logan would never forget the sound the poor nurse had made when she removed his poorly wrapped bandages. She had dropped the spare shirt she had been holding for him and immediately fumbled for the phone, dialing 911 immediately. His friends faces were so pale, it made Logan wonder what he was missing back there. All he really new was that it hurt like a thousand things his mother would kill him for repeating. Then again, she would kill him for anything he said, let alone curses.

Now he was sitting in an ambulance, hoping for the best, and knowing it wasn't really an option. He knew his friends were all following him to the hospital in their parents' cars, but he didn't really want them, too. He also knew that the school _hadn't_ called his mom, and that's what scared him the most. Something about old cuts and old bruises being mixed in with the new ones. Before he could really process everything about where he was, a paramedic was bent down in front of him, eyes wide and almost desperate looking.

"Can you tell me how this happened?" they asked, and Logan bit his lip, shaking his head. He didn't want to answer any questions about what had happened. He felt small and scared sitting on the gernie in the back of the ambulance as two people talked in medical terms he didn't understand over him. He was already wearing a big hospital gown that didn't have a back to keep him comfortable that practically swallowed him whole. "Why not?" the asked, and Logan just shook his head. A gentle shake on the knee goaded him to answer.

"I'm not 'possed to," he answered shortly, and the paramedic just looked at him sadly, standing up to talk with the other two people about some more things Logan didn't understand. That was okay, Logan didn't want to know what they were saying. He just wanted to sleep really, really bad.

The poor kid didn't even noticed when his eyes flickered closed, him falling sideways into sleep.

**I'm a horrible writer. Gosh, I was rereading the chapters of this, and I feel like such a loser.**

**On a more positive note, I'm alarmed that I've actually gotten two belated birthday gifts today! I FEEL SO LOVED! Thank you!**


	10. Chapter 9

**Wheeee-wah. What am I typing? Okay. Um, so yeah... I know I still have things to write for people, but I was SO hit with inspiration for this, and... yeah. I HAD to write, you feel me? Awesome. So I'm writing this now. **

**Only a few chapters left, by the way! Then it's over! It's actually WAY longer then I thought it was (I thought for the longest time it was only six chapters long. I'm kind of surprised it's nine...) OH YEAH! HAPPY TENTH CHAPTER!**

When Logan's eyes finally flickered open, the first thing he saw was, naturally, the white tiled ceiling of his hospital room. His heart started beating faster as the sound of it's monitor filled his ears. He sat up a little, disoriented and confused, and took a look around. He jumped a little when he caught sight of Mr. Garcia in uniform, giving him a smile and shaking Carlos awake. The pint-sized Latino lifted his head out of his father's lap, rubbing his bleary eyes and wiping at his tear-stained cheeks. Logan watched as he looked up at him questioningly, and his father nodded towards him. Carlos's eyes immediately brightened.

Logan waved at him weakly, his fingers moving sluggishly after just waking up. "Logie!" Carlos squealed, jumping over to give him a hug. Logan tensed, bracing himself from the excruciating pain that was sure to come as his helmet-wearing friend's arms wrapped around his middle, holding on tightly to his back, but was lost when he felt nothing but his tight squeeze. _How long have I been out?_ He looked to Mr. Garcia for help, Carlos's face buried into his chest. He could feel hot tears seeping through his thin hospital gown.

"Boy, am I glad to see you awake!" Mr. Garcia said in an attempt of a chipper voice, his tone too laden with worry and pity to truly be happy. "You were asleep for two weeks!" he informed him, answering his unasked question, and Logan gagged. He'd been missing from his mom for two weeks? His hands started shaking as flashes of his foreseen punishment rolled through his head. He gripped the bedsheets tight, and the gradually speeding up beep of his heartbeat in the room topped at an all time high. An exceptionally loud sob from Carlos brought him out of his trance and back to the room.

"They kept having to give you seed-tives cause you were screaming, Logie! _Why were you screaming so bad_?" he wailed, his voice muffled and mispronouncing "sedatives". It would have been funny if the circumstances were different. Logan pulled him in close, rubbing his back comfortingly and letting him know through touch that he was alright. Carlos sniffed, and Logan ignored the fact that his snot was probably all over the front of him now. "What happened?" he asked, sounding desperate. Logan winced, not sure what to say, but luckily, Mr. Garcia had it covered.

"Alright, Carlitos," he said, pulling him off, "I need to talk to Logan alone, okay?" he asked, hoisting his son over his shoulder. Carlos waved back at him as he was carried away, crying to hard to say anything. Logan waited patiently as Mr. Garcia exited the room for a minute, probably calming Carlos down, and took his time alone to try to gather his bearings. His head was abuzz. There was no way the doctors didn't put the pieces together, that's why Mr. Garcia wanted to talk to him man to man. He knew, and Logan couldn't breathe.

This was everything he had worked to keep hidden. This was the "what if" that had plagued his mind for so long, there was no way he hadn't played through every outcome. The way Logan saw it, was that it came down to two options. Either his friends would stay with him out of pity, or they'd kick him to the curb. After all, no one _really_ loves _that_ kid. _That_ kid who's parents don't even want him, who doesn't remember what it felt like to be happy, who can't sleep through the night because he was too scared. No. Who would want to be friends with someone like that? No one needs a depressed, quivering little tag-along who doesn't _really_ laugh when something is funny.

Tears dripped down Logan's cheeks, and his stomach knotted. This was so _bad_. The only things that made his life worth living were over. Well, not quite yet, but they were going to be. As soon as Mr. Garcia walked back through that door, everything would unravel. Two and two would be put together, his friends would know the truth, and he wouldn't have the chance to even _see_ his house again. He'd be put in the system, foster care with a bunch of other kids who wouldn't like him. Logan would be the weird kid in a new place, and Logan would rather be beaten then be excluded by his "siblings". His mind kept rolling with the improbable, and eventually, Carlos must have calmed down or have been picked up because Mr. Garcia came back to see him.

"How you feel?" he asked, pulling a plastic chair up next to his bed and sitting down. He took his white helmet off, and Logan was surprised by the weariness in the man's face. He shrugged, not quite knowing what to say. He felt awful, but not about anything the question was directed at. Mr. Garcia cleared his throat and shifted, awkwardly fumbling for a pen and note pad. His eyes trained on Logan, and started asking questions, just like he had expected. "Logan..." he started off slowly. "Has your mom ever hit you?"

Logan hesitated to answer. He had every intention to be truthful this time, but... he had worked so hard for this lie. Was he really ready to just let it go and spill? He took a deep breath and nodded. He watched as Mr. Garcia's head dropped to write his answer down, trying to hide the disappointment in his face, but Logan caught it. Guilt wormed through his heart, feeling terrible that he had to burst his bubble like this. Had to confirm his best friend's dad's worst fear.

"Has she ever kicked you?" he asked, and Logan nodded again. Mr. Garcia wiped his forehead and scribbled in his notepad some more. The interrogation went on. "Did she choke you? Did she lock you up? Did she cut you? Did she hurt you every day?" Logan responded yes to all of his questions, growing more and more nauseous as all the secrets of his home life were untangled. His ability to breathe was lessened as he continued. Admissions to his mother's occupation, how she beat him, how often she wasn't sober came out, humiliating him. It felt like he was strangling on his lies, and it was ripping him apart. His head hurt. Finally, they reached the last question.

"Logan, last question," Mr. Garcia informed him, looking torn up. Logan's eyes had never left his face the entire time, and it seemed like his composure was eroding under his stare. Logan just didn't know where else to look. "Has your mother ever-" he paused and breathed deep, "whipped you?" Tears sprocketed into Logan's eyes, and he let his head fall back to his pillow.

"Yes," he answered verbally, his final confession draining him. He looked hopefully at the officer, eyes pleading. "Can Carlos come in?" he wondered, sounding brokenly. Mr. Garcia nodded, going to get up, but Logan put a hand on his knee as fast as he could manage, a question formed in his mind. "Carlos wouldn't hate me... right?" he asked, hearing, and blushing at, the total terror in his voice. He was confused as the man's eyes welled with tears, but was too focused on the answer to come to really care about it.

"Never," he responded, and ducked into the hallway to get Carlos, who must have been standing at the ready to rush through the door because he burst into the room in seconds. The young boy leaped onto Logan's bed, and straight onto him, crushing Logan into his mattress.

"I missed you!" he said brightly, and Logan smiled, enjoying their friendship while it lasted.

**Okay, so remember. I'm wrapping this up as fast as possible. I'm already ahead of schedule for today, so no worries! Hmph. Sorry for the lack of all characters in this. It was a necessary chapter though! So yeah... I don't know where I'm going from here, though. Yeah... didn't plan the ending as a whole for this...**

This is SHORT! I don't know what happened... but I feel like it's whole, so...


	11. Chapter 10

**Okay, guys! I've just now noticed that aside from the last chapter, I haven't updated in so long, that the story isn't even highlighted anymore. (well, NOW it is, but it wasn't before.) That's really bad, and I'mr really sorry.  
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Logan held Carlos tight as the adults argued outside in the hall. From as far as he can tell, they were discussing what to do with him. No matter how badly he wanted to just go back home, it was painfully apparent that wasn't an option. Words couldn't begin to describe the nauseous feeling in the pit of his stomach as the words "foster care" and "orphanage" wafted through the door frame. The all too welcome feeling of relief washed over him as his friends' houses were brought up. Now they were debating who was going to take him in.

Suddenly, Logan became very aware of Carlos staring up at him, fidgeting in his arms. "I don't like your mommy, Logie," he said very quietly, chewing a bit on his bottom lip. Mr. Garcia had sat him outside and explained everything to him earlier, and Logan was really hoping that they weren't going to have to have this conversation, but it was clear that they did. He squirmed uncomfortably under the Latino's gaze. "Why would she hurt you?" If Carlos hadn't been on top of him, Logan would have thrown up right then and there. He gulped, his mouth running dry, and he tried to quell the nauseous feeling rushing over him.

"I wasn't a good boy," he answered, tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. Carlos looked up at him with wide eyes, and Logan felt dirty. He was humiliated. He had been naughty, he hadn't been perfect, and now the world was finding out. What were his friends supposed to think when he had to admit how horrible he was? How he was worthless enough for his mom to beat him. Would realization dawn on them, and they'd hate him, too? He looked to Carlos for an answer.

"But... you _are_ a good boy," he said, incomprehension gleaming in his eyes. "You're smart, and nice, and fun, and you're the fastest runner on the playground, and you don't do anything bad in class, and you pay attention, and the teacher's never called your mommy on you. My daddy says you're a very good boy and I should be more like you, so how come your mom was nice to me, but mean to you?" he asked innocently. Logan sighed, the weight of the world shifting down even harder on his shoulders, practically crippling him.

"I don't know, Carlos," he said, hating how tired he sounded. Carlos, luckily, stopped asking questions and fell silent, thinking things over. The adults voices once again filled the room, their tone mellowing. Suddenly, when their volume was finally too low to make out any words, the door burst open, a timid James and concerned Kendall coming in. The blond quickly rushed over to him, grabbing his hand. Meanwhile, James had his hand in his mom's, dragging her toward his bed as if Logan was gonna send him away any second. His cheeks painted red and he looked to his toes. Mrs. Diamond goaded him on.

"Logan?" He came over, fiddling with his sheets. Logan watched him carefully, worried with what he might say. James was the confident one, and it was weird to seem him look so uncertain. He feared for the worst, figuring this was the end. At least he could say he saw it coming. He waited with baited breath as he continued. "Would you like to live at my house with me?"

Logan double-taked. His jaw was definitely on the floor, and he looked from Mrs. Diamond to James in disbelief. James... _James_ wanted to _live_ with him? But... that was impossible! Of all his friends, Logan was the most sure that James would hate him after learning everything. After all, he was so disgusted when he saw his house, and he had acted especially weird around him after learning he didn't have a dad. Logan was overcome. He felt the tears welling in his eyes, long past caring if they spilled or not. He nodded his head mutely, words caught in his throat. James plastered a real, _real_, cheeky smile on his face, and Logan practically died on the spot. He'd never been happier to have his best friends with him in his life, and the best part? He wasn't hiding anything.

"Awesome!" he chirped, jumping up and down, all signs of nervousness gone. "We can go shopping, and play games, and our cook will make all your favorite foods! What's your favorite?" he asked, eyes lit up and bright. Logan bit his lip, unsure. He only got a cheese sandwiches at school cause they were free, and he never really got anything else. James face fell, and Logan knew he must look pathetic. He _was_ pathetic. What kid didn't even have a favorite food? A favorite anything? James's smile flickered back as he blew it off. "We'll just do whatever you want, okay Logan?" He nodded, feeling the blush heat up in his cheeks.

As James chattered on about other things they'd do, Logan noticed Kendall looking at him very seriously. Logan sent up a prayer in thanks as James died down, clearly noticing the tension in the room. Kendall frowned. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked, and Logan couldn't even contemplate himself how tired he was of questions. He was extremely happy Mrs. Diamond had walked out of the room when she saw James didn't need her, as it was awkward enough with the people closest to him, let alone his soon-to-be mom.

"I don't know..." he trailed off. A quick glance to Kendall proved that he wasn't going to take that as an answer. Logan sighed. He'd been defeated so many times today, what was another to the mix? At this point, he couldn't possibly sink any lower. He fought the urge to sink into his mattress and disappear, and answered, "I thought you'd hate me." Guilt played with him as he caught sight of all _three_ of this friends' horrified faces. As if it wasn't enough to have one of them upset with him. Carlos was the first to recover.

"Logie, why would we hate you?" he asked, his tone too bright for the situation. At this point, Logan would be completely thrilled with crawling into a good-sized hole to die. For most people, the question he had just been asked would throw them off, they wouldn't know what to answer. Logan, however, had the luxury of thinking about just this thing near constantly, and didn't have to worry about scraping around for an answer. If there was anything truly off-putting about responding to Carlos, it would have to be how his friends were going to react. It didn't matter how he sugar-coated it, it would still mean the same, so he just came out with it.

"Cause my momma does," he said straightly, not bothering to get emotional about it. No, that would be pointless. He hadn't gotten teary-eyed about it before, and he certainly wasn't going to start now. He had _enough_ to get worked up over, and this was _not _going to be one of those things. He felt Kendall's thumb rubbing his hand, and he pulled away, trying to prove he didn't need the comfort.

"Logan, we'd never hate you for something like that," Kendall said, and Logan couldn't help but notice the maturity held in the blonde's voice, despite coming from just a fifth grader. Logan closed his eyes and bit his lip hard enough to draw blood. He didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to hear that he was being dumb and wrong for three years. He didn't want to know that, at any time, he could have ended everything and it would be okay. That it would work out like this.

It could have been over whenever he wanted. That _killed_. Looking back to all the opportunities where he held back just because of those "what if"s that filled his mind, each where he could have told all. It made him sick. He clutched onto Carlos, still holding onto him, and nodded.

"I know," he whispered.

**See? Again with this. SHORT! Dang it... They just FEEL done, you know? Whatever...**

**I figured the Garcias had too many kids, and the Mrs. Knight was on a waitress salary with two kids, so... yeah. I went with the Diamonds to take Logan in.  
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	12. Chapter 11

**Loga-MAN! I keep doing this. I start typing it, but the words are in bold for my AN and it's frustrating. I know, most of you are all "well then just don't write one, dumb face!" BUT I HAVE TO! I just have so much to SAY! Well... I mean, I have nothing really to say, but I like being able to say things... Man. I'd LOVE to make sense.**

**OKAY! So this week was my last week with my five-year-old Sunday school class *sobs*. That means no more Conner! (For all those who are very confused, Conner is this kid who looks JUST. LIKE. LOGAN, but when he was little, you know? Yeah. He even dresses the same and acts the same, and he's just so cute, I could CRY! SOB!)**

Logan walked stiffly out of the hospital and into the parking lot. His back, from what he could see, was still practically one big healing scab. Mrs. Diamond said she would take him shopping anyway, as everything Logan owned had been purchased in second grade. She had been sort of shocked it all still fit him, but being malnourished had a nasty little habit of keeping people from growing and making them so ridiculously skinny, that they could fit into anything. Anyway, they just weren't worth keeping anymore.

James was holding on tightly to his hand. Mrs. Diamond used to have his other one, but he hadn't known what to do about it and was glad when she picked up on how bewildered he was and let go. He was absolutely terrified to live with her. He just... didn't know what to do anymore. Was he gonna have to do all the chores still? Was he going to be yelled at? Did happy moms ever hit their kids if they did something really bad? Logan didn't know what to expect, and by the time he pulled up to the front steps of the Diamonds' massive house, he was seriously debating running off as hard as he could in the opposite direction.

Unfortunately, James had a firm grip on his arm, and there wasn't a chance of that happening, so he slowly got out of the car and walked up the front steps. His heart beat pulsed in his ears, and if it wasn't for James, he was pretty sure he wouldn't be upright. He'd gone to James's house a bunch of times, and each time he came back to his mother, she'd beat him mercilessly for being out too long. After so many punisments, one couldn't help but learn to avoid what was ingrained to him as wrong. James laughed as he paused in the door frame, entering the Diamond's house as _his_ house for the first time. He was quickly dragged off to their room. There was _plenty_ of rooms in the Diamond household he could have had to himself, but the two had been intent on sharing. He stood in the center awkwardly as his friend let go of him and bounced over his dresser, pulling out two pairs of pajamas. He shoved a pair in his arms, and Logan wavered, not sure if he was supposed to put them on or not.

James, meanwhile, was tossing his clothes on the floor and pulling his pj shirt over his head. Logan rubbed his arm, and asked warily, "Won't your mom get mad at you for making a mess?" James gave him a twisted look and shook his head, making Logan wish he could figure out a way to kick himself in the face. He didn't know what was normal anymore, and it was, to his dismay, definitely showing. Desperate for something to occupy himself with, he decided to change, too, pulling his shirt over his head.

A sharp intake of breath caught his attention, and Logan looked over at James, who was staring, horrified, at the sickly yellowing bruises and scars lining his body. He quickly grabbed his pajama shirt and held it up in front of him, the oh too familiar feeling of fear balling up in the pit of his stomach as the taller boy walked over, raising a hand. He flinched when it landed on his shoulder, but then realized the touch was comforting versus painful. He looked up into James's eyes, confused. "That won't happen here," he said, and Logan looked to the floor, feeling nauseous.

He hated this. There was so much obviously wrong with him, he couldn't even handle it. His heart clenched tightly in his chest. There was so much he didn't know or remember that made him stick out like a sore thumb, and the various injuries coating his body didn't help matters at all. He suddenly felt James pulling him into a hug. Well, at least this was something he knew how to do. He gave James a tight squeeze back, the taller boy holding him gently in his arms. Tears flooded to his eyes.

He was accepted.  
><strong><br>**Soon, Mrs. Diamond came to tuck the two in and kiss their foreheads. He watched as she did James first, bending down to whisper something in his ear that made him put on a brave smile, and then walked over to him. Terror tensed his every muscles as she kissed his head; he braced himself against the inevitable smack across the face that always came with these things. A thumbs up from James across the room let him relax. Mostly. He couldn't help but scoot as far as he could away from her, knowing he must look pathetic and hating himself for it. She grabbed his hand, and he met her eyes, fear coursing through his every vein.

His mind was on a whirl. What did he do wrong? He backtracked through the evening and couldn't find any real mistakes. His heart sped up, figuring he must have messed up somehow. He was always messing up. He waited for Mrs. Diamond to strike, to let the anger show on her face. Logan had seen her lose her temper once at James's birthday party last year. She had only yelled then, and he was hoping that would be all she did now. She rubbed his hand with her thumb. "Logan," she said, snapping him out of his fog and he refocused on her.

"Yes?" he asked, the word coming out thick and slow. She smiled at him, and he felt sick to his stomach. There was only a handful of reasons his mom ever smiled at him, and he hoped it wasn't the same for all adults. He tried to look brave, not wanting his worry to show in his face, but he got the sense that he was failing miserably.

"You don't have to be scared any more," she told him, voice low in the dark bedroom, James looking over at him, eyes wide and reassuring. The fear wormed slower now in Logan's heart as he heard her out, wondering where she was going with this and still on his toes just in case. "You're never going to have to see your mommy again, and I promise I won't ever hurt you, okay? You're my son now, and mommies are supposed to love their sons and treat them nicely. Your mom might have not done that well," she said, brushing his hair back, making him flinch at the touch, but he let her do it, "but I promise I'll never do that to you." Logan bit his lip, having heard his fair share of false promises in his life. There was only one way to be sure.

"Pinky promise?" he asked, holding out his skinny little finger for her to shake. She nodded and linked her pinky with his.

"Pinky promise." For a moment, Logan was still, so many things clicking in his brain, he couldn't keep them straight. However, he didn't hesitate long before he was hugging her so tight he thought his arms might break. _How did I get here?_ he questioned, not remember leaping into her arms. Tears fell down his face, and he was more than thankful when he felt James's arms practically doubled around his too-thin waist. For the first time in his life, there was an end in sight that was _real_. That was _good_. A smile pulled on his face, and despite the terror still buried in his heart, he was actually _happy._

Logan couldn't be happier that this was how it ends.

**DONE! Okay, I feel so RELIEVED! Like... YAY! **

**This whole thing admittedly bugged me, cause it was third person objective and I felt like I was missing out on a lot of my reasoning for stuff. Like... it doesn't matter, it was just frustrating. Anyway, sorry if it was weird or there was holes in it.**

**THANKS FOR READING!  
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